


WC2018 Drabbles

by mm_nani



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, world cup 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm_nani/pseuds/mm_nani
Summary: 1. Marco/Toni: Mature; aftermath ofthatgoal2. Kevin/Eden: Gen; they're definitelynoton a date3. Neymar/Philippe: Gen; Ney feels a kind of peace he hadn’t four years ago.4. Jordan Pickford + Deledier, Kyle/Stones, Messe, Hendollana: Mature; Pickford should know that shirtlessness is nevernotsexual amongst his teammates5. Kevin/Eden: Mature; sometimes Eden thinks that KevinwantsEden to jump him6. Kun/Leo: Gen; Kun had prayed for it to stop and it did7. Danijel/Luka: Gen; Luka and Danijel the day before the final8. Toby/Jan/Dries: Explicit Toby comes back to his room to find Jan and Dries making out on his bed.





	1. Toni/Marco

The bond between teammates is a word that hasn’t been discovered yet. It’s a physical chain binding you together, you shackle yourself to it, that floating, breathing, living something constantly in the air around you. **  
**

It had crackled when Marco leaned into Toni on the pitch, whispering into his ear and it had danced when Toni had looked back, squeezed his arm imperceptibly, fleetingly with the resolve of trust. In that moment, Toni would take a bullet for him and Marco would let him.

Toni’s arms when Marco had jumped into celebrate was reprieve, sometimes they just need to breathe. And even though it can be clawing and captive, they breathe best when they’re together.

It doesn’t surprise Marco that Toni corners him after dinner, that he’s in front of his room, looking desperate and lost. Marco pulls him in, there’s no bigger responsibility in this moment, there’s no room to feel regret. The door clicks shut behind them, deafening like a bullet amidst the silence of their heaved breaths.

‘You did it, you did it.’ Marco soothes kisses down the side of Toni’s face and Toni is still for the longest second, before he’s grabbing at Marco, hands hot underneath his shirt. It’s like a celebration, but the doors are locked and Marco pulses desire when he climbs Toni, legs wrapping around his waist.

Toni is silent, he always is and there’s a part of Marco that wants to hear those words too. Wants Toni to say how they did it, how Marco has waited eons and he’s finally done it too.

But Toni is solid, solid, solid - doesn’t falter on the steps to the bed, when Marco’s back hits the bed it’s perfect and Toni’s eyes holds those emotions that Marco can assign his own words to. The kiss feels like the coming together of two magnets, breaking tensions and sealing together in a way, that Marco feels will never give way that he’s going to spend the next eternity within the soft press of Toni’s mouth.

They scrabble for their shirts and Toni presses him into the bed when they’ve got the clothing off, chest to chest, hips slotted together until Marco can only radiate heat and the future is malleable between them.

Sometimes Marco needs words, but Toni relaxes underneath the press of Marco’s palms against his back and Marco needs to give, to know that he is needed, that Toni needs him.

And Toni needs him, he breaks their kiss to press their foreheads together, Toni’s eyes are dark, like he’s about to cave in any second, his hips are a punishing force.

And Marco wants it all. The sweet sounds of Toni grunting into the air around them, the salt of Toni’s sweat, the clench of Toni’s muscles - the spectacularity of their bodies and the things they push their bodies to do every single day.

Marco needs to know it’s possible.

And Toni doesn’t falter.


	2. Kevin/Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompts: 47. Not a Date & 63\. Everybody Knows/Mistaken for Couple

Eden has _no idea_ why everyone thinks they’re together. Kevin is the least affectionate person he has ever come across. He once told Kevin that he needed a hug and Kevin had responded with, ‘Vincent should be back from the bathroom soon.’ Heck, he’s sure that he could _ask_ Kevin for a hug and Kevin would find some excuse to not hug him.

It’s ridiculous. But Thorgan still manages to send him three eggplant emojis.

Kevin looks deliciously casual as he walks across the hotel lobby; pastel pink polo, cream shorts, sunglasses and hair ruffled into the tiniest of spikes. He’s also casually twenty minutes late and Eden is definitely not sulking. When Kevin finally reaches the table Eden is sitting at, he silently pulls out a candy bar, gestures Eden to take it.

It’s the one Eden had stress eaten from Kevin’s room two days ago. He may or may not be hoarding the ones housekeeping leaves for him in his room everyday. This is the lamest apology but Eden feels fluttery that Kevin had noticed. He grabs it after a moment of making Kevin wait, then stuffs it into his pocket. Kevin smirks and Eden just wants to wipe it off his face.

‘You _would_ want me to get fat.’ Eden grumbles because sometimes it seems like the only way to get Kevin’s attention is to whine.

‘I know you won’t let anything affect your performance so if you want to eat the candy-’ Kevin looks at him and Eden suddenly yearns for the glasses to come off, wants to see Kevin’s eyes, he can feel the thirty layers of emotion that Kevin masks in the 5 words he speaks per day ‘-then eat the candy.’

Eden doesn’t have a comeback and so they silently walk out the hotel front door. They get a car from the hotel to take them to the restauranr, since its not safe to be out and about so close to where the team is staying, especially with Kevin’s rather unique appearance.

The team get a cheat meal today and Eden can’t wait to eat sour cream and meat that is not grilled chicken. Kevin will probably get something boring and count the calories to drive Eden insane.

Eden gets a milkshake though, he knows that if he slides it over to Kevin’s side of the table wordlessly, it will get drunk.

_Hazelnut_

Eden takes a sip first, it’s thick and gets stuck coming up the straw so he has to hollow his cheeks out, Kevin is looking right at him but the sunglasses make it hard to tell what he’s thinking, Eden’s stomach still somersaults. Eden waits till their food comes before sliding the milkshake across, Kevin looks at him again, then with one hand under his chin, takes a sip. The nonchalance drives him crazy.

‘You really will get fat.’ Kevin says, small smirk across his lips, ‘and you’ll take me with you.’

‘As long as it’s together it’s all good, right?’ Eden doesn’t know what possesses him to ask, but Kevin’s head is turned towards Eden's giant buttery stew, deep in thought, and Eden pushes his plate towards Kevin, who doesn’t hesitate before stabbing a piece of meat with his fork.

‘Yeah,’ Kevin says, he takes a bite and hums, ‘it’s good.’


	3. Neymar/Philippe

He doesn’t know why Phil sidles into his room today, but he’s glad. This is always something he’s had. He forgets often- every time- until Phil will come up to him, cuddle into his side. And with Phil’s warm weight lounged across his shoulders he’ll remember that he’s always had Phil.

Curly haired, chubby cheeked, uninked Phil whose life Ney has completely missed. Is this why people call him selfish? He misses the obvious, and in snatched up moments it hits him like those shoes his sister used to throw at his head when he was being stubborn, that Phil’s been growing inside and out, lean, sinewy muscles, veiny hands, the sharpest mind in the penalty box Ney’s ever seen.

How does he miss Phil? When Phil always comes back to his side. Phil looks up at him, fingers sliding up and down his chest and finally settles on his stomach, his pinky right on the hem of his shirt, Ney can almost feel him.

‘What?’ He asks and Ney shakes his head, turns his eyes back to the TV.

‘Your tattoo is ridiculous.’ That earns him a sharp rap against his pecs.

‘I didn’t get it for you.’ Phil says and it’s just banter, a thoughtless comeback.

And yet, something about that statement cuts. It’s not that Ney really bothers about how Phil makes decisions, lives his life without a second thought to Ney. But now that Phil says it, even when it’s about a silly thing, even when they’re just joking about - it sits on his chest.

Ney didn’t know what would happen when he left Barca, but he hadn’t cared that Phil was trying to move there - that they could have been together if Ney had stayed. Perhaps, Phil would have never moved to Barca if Ney hadn't left.

In the end, Ney hadn’t thought about what Phil was doing, hadn’t called him, hadn’t consulted him or even given him a heads up. And Phil has done the same, their lives moving forward in parallel.

But Phil is here now, and they’re together and Ney feels a kind of peace he hadn’t four years ago.

‘What?’ It’s sharper this time, Phil stretches out his syllables in a whine. Ney darts his eyes back to the TV.

‘What?’ He counters back.

‘Stop staring at me.’ Phil says, trying to sound annoyed, but he moves his toes until they’re gently resting against Ney’s tender ankles. 

The space between them doesn’t feel so vast or daunting with Phil next to him, in his arms, scoring goals in the same match, same side, same jersey.

If lines could move, Ney thinks, he’d move his closer to Phil’s.


	4. Jordan Pickford + Deledier, Kyle/Stones, Messe, Hendollana

He’s not immature.

 

Pickford _knows_ what sex is, Pick has _had_ sex. He’s _older_ than Raheem, for God’s sake. But he sure as hell doesn’t understand why the entire team floor has turned into one giant orgy. All he wants to do is relax in the break room and play some fifa but he’s too scared to sit on the couches in case someone has spilled bio-hazardous fluids onto them.

 

And by someone he means Dele and Eric.

 

He hears them even before he sees them and it is a little bit his fault that he doesn’t quite understand what he’s hearing. He hears the soft grunts and the rustling but the couch is turned away from the ping pong table, so he grabs a paddle and leans against the table before sending out a text to Marcus.

 

A couple of minutes pass and the soft rustling continues, it becomes suspiciously too long for someone to have a post match stretch. Also, Marcus is taking too long to respond, so of course he does what _any_ normal person would do, he walks to the other side of the couch to ask the inhabitant(s?) if he (they?) would like to play ping pong with him.

 

And of course all he gets is an eyeful of Eric Dier’s ass. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before but he hasn’t quite seen it with Dele’s hands squeezing the cheeks.

 

‘Holy shit, mate. Get a room! You _have_ a room. Both of you do!’ They break apart at the shrill of his voice and Eric scrabbles for a pillow to throw over his junk, Dele who isn’t naked yet looks unfazed, staring back at him through glazed eyes. Pickford swallows at the sultry look, perhaps if it was Dele’s ass he wouldn’t have screamed.

 

‘It’s just post match celebration, Jordan. Nothing out of the ordinary.’ At Dele’s relaxed demeanor, even Eric loosens and leans into Dele’s hand draped across his shoulders, he turns to plant a kiss against Dele’s temple. Dele turns to look at Eric, both of them completely tuning Pickford out and he is pretty certain that if he stays, they’re just going to start making out again.

 

Pickford gets it, he really does. Like he said, he’s not a prude and despite 120+ minutes of playtime and enough stress to last him three lifetimes, he’s buzzing with energy that has nowhere to go. As an athlete, there’s one place that he can always trust to relieve excess energy.

 

The gym: good ol’ trusty place of work, sacred place of toil and effort.

 

So of course when he walks in Kyle has John pressed against the mirrors, lips pressed together, hands down his pants. Pickford doesn’t quite yell this time. The correct reaction he supposes would be to leave silently but Pickford kind of...sticks around. He’s not spying or anything, but John has gone impossibly red and the quiet look of concentration on Kyle’s face that Pickford can see through the mirror is mesmerizing. The feeling is not unlike watching them play, standing behind them, trusting them to cover for him, watching their backs flex and tighten as they jump, run and tackle. There’s a certain beauty in the fast movement of Kyle’s shoulder and the moans from John that match the rhythm of Kyle’s hands on his cock. But when John’s voice becomes strained, going higher towards a peak in a completely new yet familiar way, he knows it’s time for him to duck out.

 

Even as he’s hurrying as far away from the gym as possible, he’s very aware of how with Kyle and John’s prompting all that buzzing energy in his body was now focused onto one particular spot of his body. So he hurries back to his room, closes the door with relief.

 

He falls on the bed and takes a deep breath to calm himself, if he gets a hand on himself now, it’ll be over in three tugs and he doesn’t want that. He’s played for so long and so hard, he deserves a satisfying release. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, types in the name of his favorite porn star.

 

He hears Marcus’ door slam shut even the google page can load.

 

‘You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up in here.’ He’s not exactly straining to hear what Marcus is saying, they’re rooms are next to each to each other and they have a connecting door which bleeds sound easier than the concrete walls, and Marcus is yelling but Pickford is certainly paying attention.

 

He hears Jesse’s voice wheedling in the background now too, ‘I’m telling you, love, we weren’t making out.’

 

‘There’s video, _video_ \- i told you, i told you that i don’t fool around, that this is _it_ man, this is real for me. And you go making out with Harry of all people.’

 

‘I did not make out with Harry, _jesus man get a grip._ ’

 

There’s silence for a little bit before Jesse starts talking again, it’s less loud this time and yes by now Pickford is straining intently to listen.

 

‘Yes- well it only _looks_ like I’m making out with Harry, but I can hardly make out with him in the middle of a football pitch, _in Russia on television._ ’

 

‘So you _want_ to? What is it Jesse? Are you bored already or are you pissed because I won’t put out during the world cup.’

 

‘Jesus _fuck._ I’m not bothered about that, you know how much I love-’ and here Jesse’s voice goes so impossibly soft that Pickford is mostly just extrapolating from what inevitably starts happening next, ‘-going down on you. In fact, that’s why I’m here, _right now_.’

 

There’s another pause, some shuffling - _there goes the bed creaking_ \- and then one long, drawn out moan. Pickford is off his bed and sprinting yet again in search of a safe haven. It’s not like he doesn’t think Jesse and Marcus are fit, he _does,_ they _are_. it’s just that there’s something about Marcus, they’re friends and he’s always seen him as a kid brother and Jesse is most definitely a cradle robber for dating him, legal or no.

 

He’s a little afraid of turning corners now, of just spontaneously bumping into a half naked teammate in heat. He walks the hallways until he’s in front of Jesse’s room, he knows it’s empty so it’s a safe place to be, if not where he wants to be. He doesn’t want to be _alone._ He wants to celebrate with his teammates too, just not necessarily in the way that most of them are in that moment.

 

He hears a hearty laughter through one of the doors to his right, he’s not sure who else has their room in this hallway, but it sounds unmistakably like Henderson. He feels a little shy knocking on Jordan Henderson’s door, but he’s there and he’s a teammate and Pickford’s self esteem is up after today’s performance. He chances it, knocks on his door.

 

Henderson opens it shirtless but not suspiciously shirtless. Henderson is alone and he’s a regular man lounging about without his shirt on. Pickford feels further emboldened.

 

‘Hey mate, wondering if you wanted to hang out. Play cards or something.’

 

Henderson raises an eyebrow, smirks and leans against the door.

 

‘Hang out, huh?’ He looks Pickford up and down and then moves to the side to let him in.

 

Pickford is already walking in when he hears a tinny noise in the background, catches a glimpse of Adam Lallana through a window screen waving at him.

 

Suddenly the shirtlessness feels a lot less casual but Henderson is already closing the door and leaning against it.

 

‘Oh, you’re on the phone, I can come back.’ Pickford stammers but Henderson only shakes his head, moves closer. His eyes doesn’t leave Pickford’s face as he says, ‘We were _just_ talking about him weren’t we, Adam?’

 

He notices the thin sheen of sweat coating Henderson’s chest , the rumpled sheets and the nakedness was definitely, definitely sexual and not casual. Jordan Pickford - savior of England, breaker of curses, blithering idiot. He should have learnt from the day of the floating unicorns that shirtlessness is never _not_ sexual amongst his teammates.

 

‘Yeah,’ Adam chuckles, ‘talking about how he saved your _ass_ , Jordan.’

 

‘He did.’ Henderson says and then adds with purpose, ‘you did.’ Pickford doesn’t realize he’s walking backwards towards the bed until his knees hit the back of it, buckles and his sitting atop it. Henderson winks - he can hear Adam’s breath catch or maybe it’s his own - and goes down on his knees.


	5. Kevin De Bruyne/ Eden Hazard

Kevin on rest days is unbearable.

 

There’s just something to deliciously unguarded about him - leisurely strolls, spacing out in ice baths, lingering touches - everything about him is slow and relaxed like stress is something he’s never felt before in his life, even though he was yelling at everyone literally yesterday.

 

So he’s not exactly unbearable but the things it does to Eden’s heart and general body is kind of unbearable. It’s a small mercy that he spend most of the day getting cold compresses, baths and painful physio, such that no one notices how he’s spent most of the day in wanton over unsuspecting, innocent Kevin.

 

It doesn’t help that relaxed Kevin is more or less ‘take me’ Kevin and it can only be the blessing of a higher, very powerful being that Eden even knows what ‘take me’ Kevin looks like but he’s being driven insane by it nonetheless. Especially since Kevin has made it abundantly clear that no taking shall take place during the campaign. Eden isn’t _sulking_ but he’s taking recovery very seriously indeed and maybe his physio has to remind him to relax his muscles more times than should be necessary to a player who’s gone through the routine numerous times before.

 

There’s one point during dinner that Eden really starts questioning his sanity. It’s the point at which he thinks _maybe he wants me to jump him_ which is ridiculous because Kevin is only eating grilled chicken and smiling. But Kevin is smiling _at_ him even though they’re at different corners of the opposite sides of the table. Eden would throw furtive glances at Kevin now and then and for sure Kevin would meet his gaze every time, smiling and chewing.

 

And it’s making him only slightly nervous. Which, even that much nervousness is a little preposterous, given that he _likes_ Kevin. And he likes it when Kevin is happy.

 

Right?

 

Eden loves Kevin smiling after matches, it means they did well, they were a team and not too many of Kevin’s crosses were wasted. Or if Kevin is smiling in the mornings then it means he slept well with three uninterrupted REM cycles, and full REM cycles meant lots of energy for fun morning _exertions._

 

But at dinner, when everyone is yelling and Michy threw an olive at Dries over Kevin’s head - some olive juice no doubt splattering into his hair- Kevin should not be smiling.

 

And yet, here they are.

 

Kevin drinks his water and doesn’t mind the ketchup smear on the glass from Dries spilling ketchup all over the table. When he’s done Kevin rises wordlessly and pats Dries’ back and taps everyone on his side of the table as he walks away. Jan catches his hand in a little shake, but instead of shaking his hand Jan pulls him back. Kevin waits as Jan finishes his last bite, wipes his face and gets up too.

 

Thorgan hits Eden upside the head. He turns to his brother to hit his head in revenge. But Thorgan anticipates it easily and ducks.

 

‘Either rein yourself in or just come out already.’ He whispers teasingly but Eden knows he’s mostly serious. His staring at Kevin might not be as subtle as he initially thought after all. He swears no one on the team would even notice if Thorgan wasn’t his literal flesh and blood. But who is he kidding, Kompany makes this constipated face like he’s trying to hold in prying questions when Eden and Kevin so much as stand next to each other.

 

When Eden finally finishes dinner and heads to the break room, Kevin and Jan are in the middle of a fifa match and Toby is standing behind them, yelling at everything like it’s a real match.

 

Something odd happens then. Eden notices Kevin’s eyes dart from the screen, or he thinks it does, to look at him. Before he can assess what’s happened, Kevin concedes in the next instant and Jan exclaims out in triumph while Kevin leans back against the head of the couch in disappointment. Even in his wildest fantasies, Eden can’t really imagine Kevin looking at him if it means losing a fifa match. Kevin grumbles when he vacates his spot for Toby but oddly enough he doesn’t look upset.

 

He’s smiling again, and this time he’s definitely smiling at Eden, since he’s looking at him and coming over in gentle drags of feet like Kevin’s got all the time in the world. When Kevin lifts the corner of his blanket to snuggle under, Eden is ready; he’s ready for the next half an hour or so to be spent watching funny cat video compilations. But Kevin only settles next to him and for a while they watch Jan and Toby play video games, Kevin’s toes comfortably brushing against the side of Eden’s knees.

 

The cat video never comes, instead it’s Kevin’s fingers under the blanket, slight cold, brushing across Eden’s thighs until it’s resting along his inseams just _so-_

 

Eden gasps as quietly as he can manage but still pronounced enough for Kevin to feel the full dramatic effect of his revelation.

 

‘You _were_ seducing me the whole day.’

 

Kevin looks sheepish, he bites his lips in what Kevin thinks is an apologetic way but only short circuits Eden’s brain faster, there’s a blush running down Kevin’s neck and Eden just can’t sit next to him- intimate but hidden, close but not nearly close enough - for a second longer.

 

‘Come to my room in five minutes.’ He whispers before extricating himself from the blanket and walking off, hopefully five minutes is enough to locate the emergency lube he packs, even though they don’t usually fuck during campaigns.

 

He’s still rifling through his drawers when Kevin’s knock comes. And Eden, though the thought of no lube niggles in the back of his mind, gives up to let Kevin in.

 

He has Kevin inside his room and against the door in a matter of seconds. They exchange feverish kisses in the doorway for what feels simultaneously like their entire lifetimes and a ridiculously short amount of time. Kevin’s hands rubs down his peach fuzz to cup his neck and pull him up while they kiss.

 

Eden’s erection is bordering on painful when he realizes that they’re probably going to stop soon and he wonders if it’s an asshole move to wheedle Kevin into blowing him.

 

However, when the kissing continues and Kevin’s hands are suddenly inside his pants it’s Eden who breaks apart in surprise. Kevin looks shocked, but too far gone to even feel that properly, he’s peering at him through half lidded eyes, red splotches all over his face and neck.

 

‘Sorry,’ Kevin pants, ‘you probably want to stop.’

 

‘Me? _You_ want to stop.’

 

Kevin looks at him like he’s a particularly slow child.

 

 _Oh right he’s the one that pushed Kevin away_.

 

‘I don’t have lube.’ He says, thinks _oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_ since a blowjob is no longer nearly enough now that he knows Kevin wants to have sex.

 

Kevin rolls his eyes, digs around his pocket and throws a few sachets at him.

 

‘Focus!’

 

Kevin says impatiently when Eden blinks at the lube and condoms - _the ribbed kind._ There’s just no way Kevin was out buying _ribbed_ condoms in a corner store in Russia.

 

‘You came _prepared_.’

 

Kevin smirks and now it’s him against the door, Kevin’s hands now back inside his pants.

 

‘Yes, now fuck me.’


	6. Kun/Leo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry i said i wouldn't write angst but im a liar

Now that the time has passed and nothing has changed, Kun thinks about how  _ foolish  _ hope had been. He had wanted things to change, everyone had wanted things to change. 

 

Or rather he had wanted things to be exactly the same, back when he was ten years younger and he had lifted his first trophy with Leo. Back when he had fallen in love, but wouldn’t know it until parts of his heart wilted away piece by piece with loss after loss, with Leo growing hard under his fingers, stacking brick after brick on a bridge that only seemed to get longer and longer.

 

But it had been a struggle to dream even as he had dreamt it and he’d seen the immense pressure it had put on Leo, watching Leo hate himself every day, every minute and miniscule second had Kun praying for it to just stop.

 

And it did, it stopped.

 

And now he’s lying on his hotel bed, last night in Russia, the room flooded in a yellow the color of the bile stuck in his throat in disappointment.

 

Leo’s on his own bed, folding his clothes meticulously, with a concentration that’s only meant to distract. And Kun feels the stings of disappointment crawl down to the pit of his stomach, the old familiar pangs of an unfulfilled love. Usually he enjoys Leo being human around him, brushing his teeth, unpacking his suitcase or washing off stains from dinner but the hard lines of Leo’s shoulder, the absolute ice that Kun can’t melt feels like a taunt, a stark reminder of his own inadequacy.

 

‘You should come to Argentina with me.’ Kun says, recognizing that it’s one of those times where all Kun wants is to fight, because it’s the only way that Leo will pay any attention to him.

 

Leo finally looks at him, and the silence stretches and Kun thinks about where Leo will go with this, if he’ll take it or if he’ll cop out, the way Kun had when he’d left Spain. 

 

‘Anto and the kids are waiting for me in Barcelona.’ Leo says and it’s a reminder, maybe a warning. But all Kun is reminded of is the night of Leo’s wedding, Leo’s arms around him as they dance around drunk and Leo saying  _ te quiero pa  _ and the devastation when he’d realized that Leo had meant every word.

 

Kun nods and says, ‘maybe we can do a beach vacation, us and the kids.’

 

And Leo finally stands, comes over to him, and with one knee on his bed leans over to kiss his temple, it’s brief and Kun doesn’t even have the time to close his eyes properly.

 

‘Yeah, maybe.’

 

Kun brushes his fingers across the knee on his bed.

 

‘Te quiero pa.’ He says and Leo smiles, already having given to Kun that which could be given in this unfulfilled sea of dreams and a love where they don’t belong to each other.


	7. Danijel/Luka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well y'all know who im supporting tomorrow

Luka’s words catch in his throat when he sees Danijel limp past him, he freezes for a second, thinking about that which could have happened to him, all that which Danijel is risking even as it is-  _ pushing, pushing, pushing _ . He knows that everyone aches after physios and Danijel’s session was  _ long.  _ He can see that Danijel’s back is straight, too straight and it helps to mask the break in his step when his hamstring twitches. It makes Luka choke up even more and his chest aches with the air of  _ purpose _ that permeates through the air. Everyone is working overtime, there’s physio interviews happening as people eat, Dalic hasn’t put down his notebook for the greater part of the day and it makes Luka’s head swim and his body buzz with the need to to do  _ something _ , anything more to help them close this dream. But the team doctor had told him sternly that rest is far more helpful at this stage than extra drills.

 

But he knows his body best and sometimes, it’s not science that pushes him through that extra mile. He aches to be back on the pitch, steals a ball after curfew and sneaks into their hotels rooftop pool, now closed but there’s no door. Danijel is up there and he too has a ball that he’s passing from foot to foot. Luka rarely gets to see Danijel doing fancy legwork, so he stands around and watches, his own ball clutched loosely at his side currently forgotten. Danijel finishes rubs the back of his knees. Luka’s heart wrenches. He calls out and kicks his ball to Danijel without thinking about it and -purely on instinct because he hasn’t even looked at Luka yet - catches the ball.

 

‘Sit down,’ Luka says as he approaches, points to one of the poolside lounges. Danijel looks soft under the dim moonlight streaking out through the roof but his face is clouded in shadows. Danijel does as he’s told.

 

When Luka sits down at the end of the lounge, he can see Danijel’s face and he looks at peace if not weary, like his heart has  _ just  _ stopped beating madly. Luka knows this because it’s exactly how he feels with Danijel in front of him, wordlessly and without hesitations letting Luka massage his hamstrings. Luka feels settled, Danijel’s trust is heavy, but it grounds him and makes him believe. Danijel,  _ makes  _ him believe.

 

‘You’re not supposed to be here.’ He tries his best to use his captain’s voice but Danijel only laughs at him. It’s good nature and Luka joins in too.

 

‘You’re not supposed to be here either,’ Danijel’s hands find his and clasps them together, ‘but here you are.’

 

‘Here we are.’ Luka’s ears buzz, his hand tingles where Danijel is holding him, their clasped hands pressed against Danijel’s knee.

 

Danijel’s eyes tingle with the things they can’t say to each other, with the promises he wants to make but is too afraid to say them, as though any sign of hubris or overconfidence will come back to punish him.

 

Danijel pulls on his hand, until Luka is leaning against his chest. The angle is awkward and the handle of the chair presses against his ribs, but Danijel’s fingers in his hair fill him with possibilities, and his heart beats at a steady pace surrounded by a teammate -  _ a team _ \- that can make them happen.


	8. Toby/Dries/Jan or Toby/Jan+Dries

Toby comes back to his room to find the door guard wedging it open. He pushes it open slowly, the lights are on but the room is dim nonetheless. He reaches into his pocket to find his roomkey has been swiped and there’s not a doubt in his mind it’s one of his teammates.

 

In fact, he knows exactly which one.

 

He pretends not to notice Dries and Jan making out on his bed has he unclasps his watch and puts it on the bedside table. They don’t stop making out either, though Dries has now climbed into Jan’s lap, who looks like he’s about to fall back on the bed from the change in intensity.

 

Toby continues about his life, heads to the bathroom to wash a bit of the gel from his hair, it’s not quite going to be free until he takes a shower but this way it doesn’t feel like mannequin hair. He might be acting nonchalant, but he’s already half hard, and he knows Dries is going to pull on it soon enough.

 

When he comes out of the bathroom they’re now horizontal on the bed and Dries is rubbing Jan’s crotch slowly over his pants. Toby finally clears his throat, Dries always wins.

 

‘You have your own room I presume?’ He asks and he’s right on the edge of the bed but doesn’t make an attempt to join. In the very least, Dries should be the one to pull him in closer. Dries manages to pull himself away from Jan with what seems like great difficulty.

 

‘The view is better here.’ Dries says and his voice sounds hoarse as though from misuse, as though he’s been here languidly making out with Jan for hours.

 

‘The view?’ Toby asks, notices that Dries hasn’t stopped rubbing Jan, who’s just lysing back on the bed, spacing out at the ceiling. But Toby knows what Dries’ fingers can do, knows that Jan’s entire world is focused on Dries’ fingers.

 

‘Yes-’ Dries says and finally fists Toby’s t-shirt with his free hand and lifts it, ‘-the  _ view _ .’ Toby lifts his shirt over his head and cups Dries’ face to kiss him. Dries lets Jan go, pulls Toby down onto the bed to make out with him properly. When Dries lets him surface for air, Jan is laying next to them looking at them with the softest, sappiest look in his eyes.

 

‘Come here,’ Toby says, pulling Jan in for a kiss. He lets his hands wander underneath Jan’s shirt to caress his stomach, pulls it over his head. Dries, not one to be out of the limelight for long, has both Toby and Jan’s pants off.

 

‘Get closer, I’d like to take you both.’ Jan shuffles closer to Toby, their legs tangling together. Toby can’t help the gasp when Dries pushes their heads together and Jan grabs Toby’s hand when Dries swipes their tongue across them. Toby pulls back to look at Jan’s face, traces the dusting his cheeks down to his heated chest, until he’s looking down at Dries trying to stretch his lips over both their heads.

 

‘Fuck,’ Toby says, before he pulls Dries up to settle between them, his mouth too comically small to take two above average dicks into it - but that’s what Toby loves about him, his enthusiasm. Jan seems to be on the same wavelength when he springs into action, grbs the lubs and pulls Dries’ pants off. Toby takes care of undressing Dries the rest of the way while Jan inserts one lubed digit into him. Dries moans prettily when Jan breaches him, and Toby can feel every push of Jan’s fingers in with the slight catch in Dries’ breathe.

 

‘You first or I?’ Jan asks and Dries whines, when Toby pinches his nipples.

 

‘Go ahead.’ He says and Jan thanks him with a kiss first before lining himself up with Dries’ hole. He kisses Dries’ face, his lips, distracts him through the initial stings of pain. Dries whines, and reaches towards Toby’s crotch, his fingers stopping short on his stomach.

 

‘What do you want?’ Toby asks him and Dries reaches again, too proud to say he needs Toby’s cock in his mouth while Jan fucks him. Toby, being the generous man he is, obliges him nonetheless, frames Dries’ head with his knees before leaning down so that his head bumps against Dries’ cheek. Dries doesn’t waste time in taking him in, using his hands to steady Toby’s cock and sucking on the head.

 

Jan gestures Toby to come nearer, which he does and it gives Dries access to the rest of his cock but it also gives Jan the chance to kiss him.

 

‘Fuck his mouth.’ Jan encourages, ‘he loves that.’ Dries moans in approval and so Toby does, drives down into Dries’ mouth, who slurps around him in the most delicious way. Something between the sounds that Dries makes around him and Jan’s face scrunched in concentration in front, it all becomes a little too much and Toby stops, a little abruptly and it slows Jan’s hips down too. He tugs on himself a few times and kisses Jan again, loves that the movement of Jan’s tongue in his mouth mirrors that of his hips, slow and deep. And this is much more preferable to blowing his load onto Dries’ face before he’s gotten to fuck him.

 

Toby thinks that he’s going to wait for Jan to finish first, before his turn but of course Dries is always 3 steps ahead of all of them.

 

‘Do you want to fuck Jan?’ and Toby didn’t think he’d had any blood left to rush down to his crotch, but he feels himself twitch at the suggestion - at big, strong Jan underneath him,  _ submitting _ to him, ‘I fingered him earlier for you,’ Dries continues and Toby thinks he’ll pass out thinking about Dries and Jan on his bed, Dries’ fingers up Jan’s ass, preparing him for Toby’s cock. He looks at Jan for confirmation, who smiles sheepishly at him, he’s pulled out of Dries already. Dries is scrambling to sit up on the bed so that he can pull Jan down to take his place.

 

‘ _ Shit _ ,’ Toby says even as Dries is pushing Toby down on top of Jan, between his legs, guiding Jan’s legs to wrap around Toby’s hips.

 

‘I’ll hold him down,’ Dries says and his voice is laced with glee, ‘and you just fuck him good like i know you can.’

 

Toby knows that Jan also sleeps with Dries, that they both sleep with Dries and they’d been dared to kiss once before during some childish drinking game. Sharing Dries had seemed like an invisible boundary that they’d set for themselves, never once venturing across it, they’re club teammates- it’s different from the romantic notion of a bi-annual fancy fuck. 

 

Toby is aware that he’s leaning above someone he sees every day, has thought of fucking before but never could and who looks up at him like he wants it, like he knows there’s a barrier between them and he’s begging Toby to cross it.

 

And with Dries’ hand pushing him down into Jan, his cock slips into the crack of Jan’s ass and it’s like a wire shorts in his head, and he loses all conscious thought.  When Toby has managed to bury himself in Jan, Dries - true to his promise - holds Jan’s hands down. Jan is completely at Toby’s mercy and it makes him drive into him harder, there’s a primal part of him that wants Jan to feel it, now and long after this is over, to feel Toby sliding inside him.

 

‘Look at me,’ Toby commands and Jan’s eyes flies open to look right into his, and Toby keeps fucking him like that, memorizing every inch and corner of Jan’s face in the throes of pleasure. Suddenly Jan’s arms are around him and he realizes that Dries has let go to jerk himself off and he’s angled right at Jan’s face. Toby fucks Jan harder, gives up depth for speed and Jan moans when he realizes that Dries is going to come on his face.

 

The next few moments are confusing, Toby is too close to his own orgasm to really know if Dries or Jan came first, only takes pleasure that Jan has come untouched and looks very delectable with Dries’ streaked across his face. He comes buried within Jan, hears the long moan from his partner at the feel of warmth filling him up before allowing himself to collapse, completely exhausted right on top.

 

Dries gently pries him off Jan after a few moments, and notices him cleaning his ass and thighs gently with a towel, ‘sweetheart you were perfect,’ Dries whispers softly and Toby realizes with slight horror that this was Jan’s first time being fucked. The slight nervousness, the time that it took him to adjust to Toby and the fact that Dries only ever bottoms should have clued him in, he’d have gone slower, gentler would have kissed him more instead of just staring at him while fucking him the hardest Toby could go.

 

Jan beams at Dries’ praise, though still unable to quite lift himself off the bed. Then he turns slightly to look at Toby, his eyes nervous again.

 

Toby tangles their fingers together, kisses him softly, ‘You’re perfect.’ He says and somewhere in the very back of his mind knows that he should be worried about how much he means it.

**Author's Note:**

> It's an emotional time - everyone's having emotions. Hopefully you enjoy mine. I'm on tumblr as [kevin-the-bruyne](https://kevin-the-bruyne.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for your amazing support this world cup. Even though this series is over I've fallen in love with Kevin/Eden and you can expect more of De Hazard from me in the future.


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